


Put All Your Thoughts To Bed

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation, secretenstars2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: Leo jumps suddenly to his feet, eyes blazing as he towers over Izumi, in a way he can only pull off when Izumi is on his knees. “Swear to your king,” he says, voice more serious than he’d intended. “You’ll only die with my permission. Not like this bad script. Knights aren’t supposed to choose their own death, that’s what makes this stupid.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> For SecretEnstars2016, written for twitter user @kojacktrick! Hope you like!

Izumi commits suicide, and it’s supposed to be funny.

  
Leo agrees when Morisawa comes to him with a plan, a fun idea to drive up interest in the inevitable clash between their two illustrious veteran units before their end-of-year concert. The plan will involve not just songs, but skits and stunts, all centered around brave knights defending a doomed castle against invaders (“Libertors,” Morisawa had enthused), leading to an epic clash where each member fell one by one in battle. It had been hard enough to get everyone to go along with it (“Fuaaafu, too much work,” “Eew! I’m supposed to be what kind of brute?” “Sounds like a pain,” “Are we sure that this is a regulation activity?”), but the script had been well-written (“I would allow such a preposterous activity to take place without one of my glorious scripts? Non!”) and the event well-funded (“Eheh, I’d love to see you all battling to the death! cough, cough”). It was difficult for them to say no, when a sneak peek of one rehearsal had been leaked to youtube (“I have an obligation to my fans, de gozaru!”), and the Knights and Ryuuseitai fans had started an explosive online war of predicting the eventual winner. 

 

All goes according to plan, until the dress rehearsal. Leo’s Knights look perfect, attired in fitted military coats hearkening to the French 18th century,and each of them bears a shining prop sword thrust through their belts. Leo surveys the scene with satisfaction.

 

Until the light flickers, due to a stagehand’s design tweak, and catches Izumi full-on, light glinting off of the sword as he turns it on himself in one of the final skits.

 

Leo’s world shifts.

 

_That lovely face, gone gray and slack. His fault. Blood that looks black in the low light, trickling through the castle’s stone floors. His brave Knight had always been pale, but shades paler now, paler than his moonlight hair. His body is limp, all but the hand still clutching the hilt of his sword, thrust through the chest that the King had kissed a hundred times, begging with his lips for just one more touch. The enemy is at the gates. This is the end—and this, a last gift, an atonement that he would have died a thousand times to prevent. In the end, he’ll only die once, as the last magic fades from this world._

 

Leo gasps, eyes too bright, as Izumi makes a crack about what a pain this kind of skit is. The flash was too real, more intense than any he’s ever had, and bile rises in his throat. He turns and runs, hand clapped over his mouth, unable to watch Izumi pretend to die one more time.

 

“Leader! Leader, where are you—“ 

 

Tsukasa can’t stop him from getting far, nor does he really try. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few months, it’s that Tsukinaga Leo is fast and determined especially when he wants to be. “What now?” he hisses tiredly, whipping around, staring pleadingly up at Izumi. “Sena-sempai, you have to go get him.” 

 

“Why me?” Izumi doesn’t want to be here. He was unhappy enough about the whole idea of this nonsense in the first place, but his part in it makes him moody, far from inclined to chase after a fickle king—unit leader, he’s just a unit leader—after going through the motions of killing himself for the seventh time this week.

 

Real steel is heavier than these shitty props. How he knows that—

 

The creak of steel and leather against one another, the mustiness of horses, coppery-red hair shining too bright in the sun—

 

“—the only one he listens to! Go get him, Sena-sempai, please?” 

 

“Whatever.” He needs to leave now. Shitty, fake sword banging against his hip, Izumi takes off at a jog in Leo’s direction. “Oiiii, Ou-sama. Ou-sama, where’d you head off to, our annoying first year is gonna be furious if you skip out, for some reason…” 

 

Safe—Leo has to find a safe place, somewhere no one will find him, it’s important, they can’t execute him if they can’t find him, he won’t be abducted—

 

No, it’s fine, it’s all pretend, none of it is real—

 

_Silver-dappled hair, a rare smile, fresh grass crushed under his boots, the warm curve of a bow in his hand, light dancing from graceful fingers—_

 

The archery clubhouse is close to the impromptu stage. Leo doesn’t bother opening the door (the key is too small, keys are huge and iron, not these little silver chips), just leaning back against the solid wall, slowly sliding down to his knees. 

 

Control. He’s got to get it under control. It’s been years; he’s got to conquer this damn delusion, before it ruins his life.

 

Izumi doesn’t have to go far. 

 

Leo is, to him at least, shockingly predictable. The other members of Knights tend to side-eye him when he says as much, but to him, Leo’s actions always—and he does mean always—have some sort of meaning behind them, and tend to have a very clear path.

 

This time, it unsettles him.

 

I’m fucking crazy, Izumi wearily tells himself, shutting his eyes before the crunch of leaves underneath his boots alerts Leo to his incoming presence. I’m crazy, and I’m just getting worse. 

 

“Ou-sama.” 

 

Izumi takes a knee in front of him, expression wry. “If you’re gonna run off, at least do it where it’s hard to find you,” he sighs, reaching over to pull a leaf out of Leo’s hair. “You hate this stupid idea, too, huh?” 

 

_That kind smile, looking down, pulling a blade of grass out of his hair—“You can’t hide from your duties forever, Milord—“_

 

Leo swallows hard, then forces a casual shrug. This is Sena. This isn’t some creature from his dreams (it is, his mind insists), but his unit member, former classmate, a totally normal human modern boy. “Itsuki’s scripts are too melodramatic,” he complains, chin propped on his folded arms. “If his costumes weren’t so good, I’d say we should just ad-lib the whole thing.”

 

“Seems like it would be better.” Izumi firmly pokes at Leo’s forehead. “Stop sulking about it, isn’t that my job? I thought you were supposed to be setting a good example for the rest of us by being super enthusiastic.” It’s said rather deadpan, so help him. “Like, I don’t enjoy having to die repeatedly either, it’s putting me in a bad mood, but I’m still doing it.” 

 

Leo jumps suddenly to his feet, eyes blazing as he towers over Izumi, in a way he can only pull off when Izumi is on his knees. “Swear to your king,” he says, voice more serious than he’d intended. “You’ll only die with my permission. Not like this bad script. Knights aren’t supposed to choose their own death, that’s what makes this stupid.”

 

Izumi’s mouth goes dry. 

 

“Swear to your king that you’ll only die with my permission.”

 

Even then Leo—no, not Leo, ugh—had been tiny, shorter than average but with every single bit of his presence making it seem like he was so much more. It takes a minute for that image to banish from Izumi’s mind, and he swallows, compulsively bowing his head, gloved fingers curling against the ground. “I swear it,” he quietly says. “I…I swear I won’t die unless you order it.” His mouth twists, his face suddenly hot, but he doesn’t jerk back, no matter the compulsion. “Every part of that script is stupid.” 

 

Leo’s mouth quirks. “I dunno. I kind of like the part where you all say you’ll forsake the embrace of women to all be at my sides forever, wahaha!”

 

“Yeah, but that’s an easy one, you stupid king,” Izumi mutters, straightening where he kneels with a huff, and slowly climbs to his feet, brushing off his knees. “Itsuki writing in a harem end for us, thanks a lot.” 

 

“He’s always had his particular ideas of happy endings, hasn’t he?” Leo snakes an arm around Izumi’s narrow waist, pulling him close enough to lay his head on Izumi’s shoulder. At least the height difference feels right, in a world where everything seems wrong to him (smart phones, chopsticks, marker caps, plastic) and everyone seems stupid (of course he can skip class, he’s the king). “I’d rewrite the end. Maybe the king and the brave knight open up a churro stand together instead.”

 

“That would definitely be a twist.” It’s not unusual for Leo to grab him like this, but that doesn’t stop Izumi from feeling flustered and vaguely…antsy. He shifts to glance around, making sure the area is actually, entirely vacant before gingerly wrapping both arms around Leo, squeezing him gently. “Except the stupid king would just end up eating all the churros before the overworked knight could even get them covered in cinnamon sugar properly. We’re not having a replay of that, no way.”

 

“What are you mad about? I ate all the cinnamon sugar afterward, so it wasn’t a waste, right?” Leo asks, beaming. Talking like this is easier, by far, than trying to put the rest of his life into some semblance of sense. 

 

“And then you bounced off the walls twenty times more than usual for a solid hour,” Izumi flatly recalls, giving Leo a light shake. “Come on, we need to get back to practice. If you stick around and bear with it, we can hang out afterwards.” 

 

Leo’s lips tense unhappily, but he nods, letting Izumi steer him. “I don’t like watching you die,” he says, uncharacteristically serious. “It just…reminds me that I failed as your king. I know, I know, it’s a play, but…”

 

“You didn’t fail at anything, idiot.” Izumi slings an arm around him to pull Leo along, fairly certain he’s going to try and bolt again at any moment. Leo phrasing it like that, though, makes his own mouth turn down, annoyed. “I’m the one that screwed up Knights in the first place. You’re just picking up my mess now; if it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have to do something this stupid for good publicity.” 

 

_“My failure is the reason they’re here,” he says, eyes a shadow in that familiar, fey face as the first round of arrows pelts the castle walls. “I’ll atone for it in the only way I have left.”_

 

A shudder goes through Leo, and his instinctive reaction is strong, making him grab Izumi around the neck, climbing onto his back. Talk about something else, talk about something loudly—it’s all he can do, and if Izumi thinks he’s crazy now, what on earth would he think if he knew the real truth? “Hey, do you think caterpillars know what they’re doing when they build cocoons to turn into butterflies? Or do they just start sealing themselves up and feel their legs liquifying and still not know why? Do you think if we took that leap and sealed ourselves up in butt-silk we’d turn into something beautiful, too?”

 

Izumi grunts, barely swaying underneath Leo’s weight but taking a second to adjust, anyway, and reach back to loop his arms underneath Leo’s legs, hiking up onto his back more sturdily. “Don’t mess up my cape, Ou-sama. I don’t want to think about butt silk, that’s super weird. Instead of taking a risk like that, it’s a lot better to make yourself beautiful with a good skin care routine if you have a pretty face, or get plastic surgery if you don’t.” 

 

“Why is it only plastic surgery? What about metal, what about plasma? How about robot surgery?” He hooks his arms carefully, making sure not to mess up Izumi’s clothes, and says suddenly, against his better judgment, “You look right in that costume, Sena. But I don’t want to see it, it’s too much for me.”

 

“No one wants robot surgery, too weird.” Izumi’s mouth twists, and he’s suddenly glad that Leo can’t see the expression on his face. Maybe, if he told Leo about some of his weird dreams, some of the weirder things he feels when he’s around him…

 

_No, he already thinks I’m nuts, I’m sure of it._ “Yeah. I get it.” His expression shifts wry. “You in that crown and stuff—that’s a lot. I like it when you look cute instead.” 

 

Maybe that’s a little too flirty instead of being too weird, and Izumi walks faster, a mix annoyed and embarrassed. “Stop making me say stupid things.” 

 

_“No one is more suited to a golden crown than my golden king,_ ” a voice echoes in Leo’s memory, and a few hot tears spill unexpectedly down his face, splashing on Izumi’s shoulder. “Haha, I’d have to remove your tongue!” he teases, forcing cheer with every syllable. This is getting bad, they’re getting stronger, it’s never been so much.

 

“Oi.” The idea that no one else can read Leo or hear the obvious in his voice is infuriating. It’s as clear as day, and that’s why Izumi abruptly drops his legs, twisting around to grab him where Leo dangles. “What’s going on?” he hushedly presses, frowning as he reaches up to wipe at Leo’s face with gloved fingers. Seeing Leo cry wrenches something in his chest, makes him feel sick to his stomach, and making it stop is entirely necessary. “Ou-sama—if you don’t want to do the Live, you don’t have to. I’ll make your excuses.” That last sentence comes out far more formally than Izumi would like, and he flushes, opening his mouth to try and rephrase, to make it seem like a casual thing—but nothing comes to mind, and he shuts his mouth, awkwardly looking aside. 

 

Leo reaches up to scrub at his face, leaving trails of makeup on his gloves. “Allergies, it’s fine,” he mutters, because how can he tell Izumi that everything he does in this costume hurts, every time he acts courtly and formal it hurts, that his king—unit leader, you’re not really a king, idiot—is crazier than people think, that there’s something tugging at his head and his heart in a way he can’t explain?

 

He grabs Izumi by the lapels, blinking through the tears. “I can’t watch you die again, though. I’m going to tell them it’s not right, the Knight can’t die before his King, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

“O..okay, okay, whatever you want.” Just stop looking so upset, I’m begging you. Izumi bites his lip before he grabs for Leo’s hands, squeezing them. “Don’t go talk to them while you’re crying, though. I don’t want Itsuki scoffing at you for wanting to change the script, and Morisawa’s just an idiot, he’d make a big deal about it in that…way of his. Do you want to go change first? Do you want me to go change first?”

 

Leo’s mouth turns up at one corner, and he leans forward, resting his hands on Izumi’s chest. It’s intimate, but Leo has never shied away from being in someone else’s personal space, and he doesn’t now. “Sena is being a good wife and taking care of me. Ah, it’s fine. I’ll just listen to music backstage while it’s happening. I don’t want everyone to have to learn more lines right before we open just because your king is being incorrigible.”

 

“I don’t mind. I mean, you’re a pain, but…” Izumi’s heaves a sigh, shrugging helplessly. Leo is very close to his face. Izumi is grateful for many things, including his perfect skin and penchant for sugarless breath mints. “It sort of comes with the territory. You’re Ou-sama and you’ll act like Ou-sama. If anyone else complains, they can get over it, too.”

 

Leo nods slowly, squaring his shoulders. “Right, right. I’ll just—maybe someone else can kill you. That would be better. Wahaha, that sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I just…” He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t want to watch you die by your own hand. It feels too real.”

 

“Maybe I can die protecting you, that’d be the best.” Too weird. Too honest. Izumi huffs, batting Leo’s hands away. “Forget I said that.” 

 

“No, that’s how it should—“ 

 

Leo bites his tongue, turning away. _That’s how it should have been_ is too weird, even for him, so he sets off towards the Live House, cheeks burning. “That’s how it should be,” he finishes with a lie. “Knights are supposed to die protecting the king, right? If it’s the other way around, it’s no good! Ah, someone should be the Fair Maiden, aren’t they usually getting saved in this kind of thing?”

 

“Let Naru-kun do it and he’ll die happy,” Izumi mutters, hurrying after him. “I mean, I don’t want to die at all, to be honest? But if that’s the point of this whole thing…man, why do I always get killed off in school plays, this is so lame.” 

 

“Sena is just good at playing the valiant one who’ll die for justice in the end, I guess,” Leo says, a little softly. “Plus you’re a better actor than the others, death scenes are hard! I don’t want to have to bring Hibiki in again, grrr…”

 

“Don’t you dare bring him in, then I’ll really commit suicide,” Izumi deadpans. He reaches for Leo’s ponytail, gently pulling it. “You sound like a lion cub when you growl like that. After this practice is over, we should do something.” 

 

The promise of doing something apart from this stupid play makes Leo perk up, and he nods urgently, grabbing Izumi’s shoulder and squeezing it. 

 

_Their hands intertwined, fingers laced together beneath the table where no one can see—_

 

It’s fine. They shouldn’t be holding hands anyway, they’re both boys, and this is Japan. “Where should we go? Ahhh, I’m hungry, Sena needs to feed his dying king.”

 

“If you come over, I’ll cook for you.” Izumi hesitates, then grabs Leo’s hand off of his shoulder, squeezing it. It’s far too intimate, but it feels right, and he feels awkward about letting go now, so he has no choice. “If you really behave yourself, maybe that’ll include churros.” 

 

Leo’s eyes light up, and somehow, the offer of churros banishes the looming specter of his own vanishing sanity. “Yaaaaaay! I get to go to Sena house and have churros!!” He squeezes back, but lets go before his mind can go to The Other Place again, heading back to the Live house. “Hey, if you catch me, I’ll walk on my hands the rest of the way, hahaha!”

 

“Why would I want you to do that? If you mess up your costume…” Izumi sighs, helplessly shrugging. “Whatever. Think about what you want for dinner, I’ll make it.” 

 

“Churros, please!”

 

“Not for dinner. You’re gonna get fat.” 

 

“Nah, I won’t.” Leo grins. “You know I won’t. It makes you mad, right?”

 

“Yes, it makes me want to strangle you. I’m not just making you churros, it’ll make you break out.” Izumi’s lips purse. “I’m not touching you if you’ve got zits.” 

 

Leo opens his mouth to say something, but Izumi’s comment hits him late, and he flushes deep red at the idea of Izumi touching him—as a reward, nonetheless. Well, that’s an embarrassing reaction. He takes a breath, then calls, “Give me oyakodon, then!” and dashes off towards the Live house at top speed. Hopefully by the time he gets there, his body will have Calmed Down a little bit.

 

_What? What did I say now?!_

 

Izumi stares after Leo, trying to parse his words together with the way Leo is acting this time—and heaves a sigh, shrugging to himself as he trots after Leo, making no attempt to catch him. It’s time to get out of this practice alive, and without Leo crying again, if he can help it. 

 

They manage it, at least.

 

Dress rehearsals shouldn’t be this tough to stomach, but Leo at least doesn’t cry, and Izumi has never been happier to be stripped out of stifling, tight military-style uniforms before. Leggings and long shirts all the way, complete with squishy, warm fur-lined boots that he stuffs little heating packs into the bottom of are the way to go for his sore feet. Izumi hikes his bag up over his shoulder, waiting for Leo to finish changing. “Don’t roll on the floor in your uniform like usual, Ou-sama.” 

 

Leo looks up, half-naked already, pausing with the uniform about to be hurled to the floor, guiltily shifting to drape it over a chair instead. “Ah, you want to steam these for me or something? Sena’s always been particular about that kind of thing, hmm?”

 

He’d made it, at least. It had been gut-wrenching, but it’s a choice—does he want to let this weird dual reality in his mind run and ruin his life, or not? If he starts letting it make his choices now, he’s made his decision, and it would be a bad one. So he’ll continue on, doing his best, and trying to ignore it.

 

“Yeah, I’m not letting you look like a hot mess on stage.” Izumi immediately scoops it up, pulling it onto a hanger to be dealt with when he comes in tomorrow. “Your parents okay with you staying the night? The last time I cooked for you, you went into a coma for a few hours.” There’s no better compliment, honestly, but Izumi doesn’t like Leo’s parents, and isn’t interested in them scolding Leo or interfering with…well, anything. He’s trying to make Leo feel better—a compulsion that he’s never quite been able to help—not cause more problems. 

 

“Mm, I texted Mom, she says it’s fine as long as I sent her a pic of my completed homework later.” Which means, of course, that there’s no better place he can be, since no one he knows is better at school than Izumi. It wouldn’t be even the first dozen times that Izumi has helped him with his homework. He finishes dressing in loose sweats and a high-necked sweater, with a squishy scarf wrapped around his neck. “Hey, Sena, remember this scarf? You were so bad at knitting back then, wow.”

 

“You’re still wearing that?” Izumi protests, cringing visibly. “Take it off, don’t remind me about it.” Completed homework means probably doing it for Leo, more or less, which should probably bother him more. It’s not Leo’s fault he gets so distracted and tries to be way too out there with things that are notoriously simple. “C’mon, let’s go. We’re gonna be alone, my parents went out to dinner.” 

 

Leo huffs out a breath in relief. He likes Izumi’s parents, likes them a lot, but parents make him nervous at the best of times. He follows after Izumi, tugging the scarf up around his ears. “What are they having? Mm, we should have hamburgers. Or popsicles. Hey, Sena, carry my bag, I don’t wanna.”

 

Izumi takes it wordlessly, throwing it up over his shoulder, and compulsively slings an arm around Leo’s waist. It’s to make sure he doesn’t run off, he tells himself, but really, it’s the contact more than anything that he seeks. “I dunno what they’re having. I thought you wanted oyakodon. I’m not making anything gross or unhealthy, that’s the rule.” 

 

“Wehh, I thought Sena was going to spoil me,” Leo complains, grumpy. “Sena really is a strict wife after all, huh? That’s all right, I’ll just make the money and give you babies.”

 

“I am spoiling you, stupid king. I’m cooking for you,” Izumi grumbles. His face flushes, even as his fingers curl and squeeze against Leo’s hip. It’s not like they’re dating, or—or like they’re anything, but sometimes Leo talks like this, and Izumi helplessly goes along with it. “We’re both guys, you can’t knock me up.” 

 

“Eh?” Leo frowns. “That doesn’t sound right. Ahhh, Sena, I hate barriers to my wildest dreams. Maybe no one has tried really hard yet, or believed!”

 

“Yeah…you know what, sure. Maybe you’ve just gotta magic up a uterus into me.” Izumi pats Leo’s lower back. “I’ll kill you if the babies give me stretch marks, though. Like, actually kill you.” 

 

“Fair enough. Super rude, they’d be worth it. Would they have my hair, or yours?”

 

A stupid urge seizes Leo all of a sudden, and he says something that only his parents know. “I don’t dye my hair, Sena.”

 

Izumi blinks, glancing down at Leo and nearly stumbling at the crosswalk. “…What, that’s natural? But you aren’t mixed.”

 

Brilliant, coppery red haunts his dreams—and nightmares, unfortunately. Izumi tries to suppress a shiver, fails, and tightens his arm around Leo’s waist instead. It’s a weird, weird coincidence if Leo is telling the truth (and he is—Izumi can tell when the idiot is lying to him, a rarity in and of itself that Leo usually wants to be called on), because—“I mean…mm. I don’t, either.” 

 

“I know.”

 

Leo’s mouth twists. He probably shouldn’t have said that, but…it made sense, at the time. He does know. He’s always known, even if he doesn’t know how he knows, that his stupid fancies are more than just that. In a way, he hates it—it would be easier if he could just believe that they’re just imaginary, but he’s always known, for the last few years, that it isn’t the case. “Mm, I’ve felt your hair, you know? It doesn’t feel like it’s dyed.”

 

“…Yeah. Yours doesn’t feel dyed, either. But I thought maybe you were just lucky, like your stupid metabolism.” Izumi feels his pulse thrumming too-fast in his veins. This is weird! he wants to shriek, but if he bites it down long enough, maybe Leo will keep thinking he’s at least a vague semblance of normal. “My mom thinks it’s from her side of the family, there’s a lot of blue-eyed blondes floating around in there,” he says, trying to brush it off the way he always has. “Naru-kun doesn’t believe me, he thinks it’s all dyed and I wear contacts.” 

 

“But your hair isn’t blond. Heh, at least they can explain yours away. My folks just say I dye it if anyone asks, it was a big scandal when I was a baby, everyone figured my dad isn’t my dad.” Leo grimaces, eyes unfocused. “Ruka-tan even thinks I dye it, so she dyes hers. I’ve never…told anyone about this before.”

 

“My mom thinks it’s blond, so close enough.” Izumi turns down the last, entirely quiet street leading to his house, pulling Leo with him. “I think…” He trails off, his voice soft, and he glances away awkwardly. “I think your hair is beautiful. I…heh. Don’t think I’m too weird, but it’s one of those things that sticks with you, you know? I’m pretty sure I’ve had some dumb dreams about it.” There’s no ‘pretty sure’ about it, but in a desperate attempt to not be too weird, that’s all he’s got. 

 

_And I’ve had dreams about you lying dead at my feet every night since I was a baby._

 

No, that sounds way too weird, even for him. Besides, that’s not the only thing he dreams about. A lot of it, a lot of the dreams, are happy beyond his wildest dreams, though they don’t make a lot of sense. There’s a sense of freedom in them, of riding in the open air with no rules, no laws beyond what he makes, no restrictions on anything he wants to do because the land is his, his to care for, his to destroy, his to fight and die for. And sometimes he dreams about Izumi (not Izumi, that wasn’t his name) playing with light, dancing between his fingertips, and stars glittering in his eyes.

 

“Do you…” _Believe in magic, Sena?_ The words are heavy on his tongue. Once he opens that can of worms, it’ll be impossible to put them back in. Izumi will think he’s crazy—or worse, maybe, he won’t, and Leo will find out something terrifying about the world and his own mind. He trails off, unable to finish the sentence, unable to think of a way to end it properly.

 

“Do I…” Izumi presses, gently prodding at Leo’s side. He comes to a stop at his house’s gate, typing in the key combination, and the gate pops open to allow them inside. “Ou-sama. You ask me if caterpillars think about what butt silk does. Whatever you ask, I’m probably not gonna blink.” He unlocks the front door and pulls Leo inside. “Shoes off, Papa just had the hardwoods waxed.” 

 

Leo kicks off his shoes, leaning down to arrange them neatly in the breezeway. “Sena’s parents care about their house a lot,” he murmurs, breathing in deep, taking in the familiar smell that he thinks of as being quintessentially Izumi.

 

Not always, he once smelled like crushed conifers and driven snow, like the sparkle of the very stars and mulled wine.

 

Not helpful. Now it’s more of a lavender-vanilla, if he has to put a word to it. Not otherworldly, except for that tiny scent of something that he only smells when he’s really close, nose buried in Izumi’s hair, that something that he can never shake. “Nnh, bottle your perfume and bathe me in it.”

 

Leo is normally clingy. Leo is normally affectionate, and cuddly, and Izumi is fine with that. It’s not like he dislikes it at all—he enjoys it too much, maybe, and feels self-conscious about the way his own heart beats too-fast, the way his own breath hitches when Leo says things like that—but tonight, it’s more than usual, somehow, and Izumi feels his skin prickle like he’s on fire, overstimulated and distracted. “Ou-sama is really into the way things smell, huh.” Not that he isn’t, either, because he can identify at least five very Leo-specific scents. He just doesn’t talk about it.

 

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch, turn the TV on, whatever,” Izumi murmurs, fishing out the little heat packs from his boots to toss them in a drawer in the breezeway before he heads over into the kitchen. “If I’m cooking for you, you get to rub my feet later.” 

 

“Sena has very unique feet, so it’s my pleasure,” Leo calls, flopping down lengthwise on the sofa, kicking his socked feet up into the air. He doesn’t turn on the TV, instead staring at baby pictures up on the walls. Sena’s famous Mama may be a nisei, but her hair is as black as his father’s, and Leo should have known, should have seen those pictures before, with little silver-haired Sena with a happy, chubby smile between his smiling parents, all the way back to before he knew how to pose for a camera. Leo smiles to himself. He’d bet one of his songs that Izumi has tried to get his parents to take those down at some point. “Whatcha makin’ for dinner? I’m huuuuungry! Feed your king before he starves!”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s oyakodon, unless you’ve changed your damned mind.” First things first, though—making that stupid churro dough, and letting it rest while he makes actual dinner. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 

“Peeeace!” Leo announces, as if he’s posing for a picture. Then he promptly rolls off the couch and onto the floor, landing facedown and staying there. Maybe now, while Izumi is cooking and can’t look at him, while the smooth waxed wood floor presses up while gravity presses down, he can ask something he’s always wanted to know. “Sena…do you believe in magic?”

 

“Hmm?” It’s definitely the kind of question he expects from Leo, but narrowing it down when he’s measuring out flour is still necessary. “Like…what kind? Some of it’s totally bogus.” 

 

“Sena sounds like that red-haired kid with the hammers,” Leo says with a sigh. “Real magic. Like, snap your fingers and fly, or shoot lightning from your hands.”

 

“I mean…” Izumi hedges, not wanting to sound like a fucking toddler. The stuff in his dreams makes it seem awfully real, but Leo doesn’t exactly need to know that. “I dunno. Maybe back in the day—heh, that sounds like my mom. She thinks technology saps out a lot of a person’s ‘innate power’, that kind of thing…hold on, noise time.” 

 

Mixing up the dough and stashing it into the fridge happens in short order, and starting up the dashi mixture for Leo’s actual meal is a simple task that Izumi knows by heart. Chopping up an onion comes next, and Izumi tosses it in, wishing the smell didn’t make his own stomach growl. “Why’re you asking? Think you’ve picked up a magical power or two now, Ou-sama?” 

 

“Nah. Just…back in the day sounds really good sometimes, you know?” There’s a further wistful question that Leo wants to ask—do you believe in reincarnation, Sena?—but he’s not ready, not yet. “How long ago do you think it was? Back with Knights and horses, or back before we had writing systems and musical instruments? What if humanity sealed itself up with butt silk and didn’t even know it was becoming something different?”

 

“Enough with the butt silk. I dunno how long ago it was, definitely way before stuff like electricity, though. Those poor people,” Izumi mutters distractedly, adding the chicken and mixing the entire pan together. “I’d die without air conditioner, personally. Magic isn’t gonna fix that.” 

 

“Hmm, maybe it could give you babies without stretch marks, though, so that’s a trade-off!”

 

“Grooooss. Ou-sama, don’t talk about stretch marks, that’s the worst,” Izumi groans, cracking an egg into a bowl and stirring it thoroughly before pouring it over the simmering chicken once it’s cooked through. “I don’t think magic can do that.” It does beg the unanswered question from before, though, which makes Izumi grumpily mutter to himself: “What color hair would our kids have?” 

 

“Ooooh, Sena’s asking the real questions!” Leo is delighted, rolling over, enjoying the lack of friction from any carpets or grass, the surfaces he usually rolls around on. “Think it’d be a blend, so dull orange? Or maybe they’d alternate, like cats, and it’d go orange-silver-orange-silver? Let’s have a litter and find out.”

 

“Kids don’t come in litters, dumbass,” Izumi exasperatedly says, but his lips twitch into a faint smile all the same, no matter how ridiculous this entire thing is. There’s rice still in the rice cooker—still warm, his mother’s typical attempt to make him eat when he returns home from practice—and he scoops out a generous portion before uncovering his pan and pouring the whole chicken and egg on top of it. “Off the floor with you, Ou-sama,” he hums, walking the bowl and chopsticks over. “Or d’you wanna eat down there? If you do, you have to be neat about it.” 

 

Leo scrambles up, kneeling in front of what appears to be a glass coffee table, which he has never understood. “Ahhh, it smells so good, I love it when Sena cooks for me. Are we gonna eat out of the same bowl? Is that the rule?”

 

“Nope, this is all for you.” Izumi sets it down, patting Leo’s head before drifting back to the kitchen. “I have to get your churros in the oven if you want those as dessert.” 

 

Leo grabs Izumi by the wrist, yanking him down onto the floor, deftly grabbing a bite with his chopsticks. “Sena, you’ve gotta have protein like this, or I’ll get it into you some other way.”

 

“Wha…what’s that supposed to mean?” Izumi protests, his mind immediately going somewhere ridiculously dirty. He scoots back, holding up a hand to block Leo’s chopsticks. “I made it for you, you’re supposed to eat it! I’ll eat later, I’m fine.” 

 

Leo is faster, always faster especially when Izumi’s distracted, and manages to get a big chunk of chicken and egg white into Izumi’s mouth. “That and one churro, Sena! That’s your tax, please enjoy it. Now stop stealing my food, grrr!”

 

Izumi huffs, scowling as he chews and swallows. “Damn it, that’s good,” he grumbles, climbing back to his feet again. “I’m not eating a churro, nice try. They’re all for you.” 

 

“Then you didn’t make enough food. You should make more churros to make up for it.” Leo destroys his oyakodon in short order, easily chomping through all the food, humming to himself under his breath. They hadn’t had good fare like this before on the road. It had mostly been whatever he could shoot, and Izumi had had to cook in that stupid heavy cauldron over the fire, and—

 

Chopsticks hit his bowl, and Leo sits back, face gone gray, clutching his head. They’re getting stronger again. The last time it had happened had been when they’d been challenged to that fateful Live against fine, when the look in Eichi’s eyes—

 

Fire, and blood, but mostly fire reflected in that placid blue gaze, a tiny smile on the tall man’s face. He wears no armor, and his slender sword drips in time with the crackling of the flames, red blossoms appearing wherever the drops land. 

 

“I made more than enough, dumbass—it’s just all for you. I’m not hungry. I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but…” Izumi trails off in-between stuffing the dough into a pastry bag, glancing over to Leo with a frown. “Ou-sama?” He dusts the flour off of his hands, striding back into the living room. “Hey—Ou-sama, are you okay?” he worriedly presses, dropping down onto the floor next to him again, all traces of exasperation gone from his voice. “You’re really pale, what the hell, don’t tell me you developed an egg allergy or something weird now…” 

 

Shit, got to fake it, Sena can always tell but I’ve got to try— Leo sits up, shaking his head, and fakes a huge sneeze, explosive enough that he rocks back on his heels. “Ha, wow! That was hard to hold in, sorry to get it everywhere! Here, gimme a cloth, I’ll clean it up.”

 

“Don’t fuck with me.” Izumi narrows his eyes, leaning closer, entirely unconvinced. “You were freaking out earlier today and you’re doing the same thing now. Ou-sama, we’re at my house, alone, and it’s me. If something’s bothering you, just say it already, I’m starting to get mad.” 

 

Leo peeks up at Izumi through narrowed eyes, his own brows furrowed. His hands feel cold, and he’s pretty sure they’re shaking, but… “It’s not bad that I want Sena to think I’m a cool king, is it?” he pleads. 

 

Izumi exhales a frustrated sigh, and grabs Leo’s face in one hand, dragging him closer to wipe his face clean with his own sleeve. “I think you’re cool no matter what, asshole,” he gruffly mutters. “Don’t make me say it, though. That pisses me off more.”

 

Leo’s eyes sting slightly—how long has it been now that Izumi has been his grumpy, caring friend?—and lets his face be wiped. “It’s more like…ah…I don’t want Sena to think I’m super weird in an uncool, un-ousama-like way.”

 

“Newsflash, I already think you’re super weird. But Ou-sama is Ou-sama, it’s nothing new when you do something out of nowhere or say something really strange. You’re still Ou-sama.” Izumi leans back, frowning. “Come sit in the kitchen and eat churro dough and let me feed you them when they’re still hot. Then you can tell me whatever’s bugging you.” 

 

Leo purses his lips, but nods and follows. He’s a genius; surely he can think up something to be upset about before it’s time to reveal his deep-seated insecurities. He drifts into the kitchen, sitting on a wood-backed chair, slumping forward on the table before his finger “accidentally” dips into the dough, then stuffs that bit into his mouth. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Izumi to put up with his stupid dreams. If anything, it’s because he trusts him too much, and is afraid of what could happen to his reality if someone like Izumi ever tells him his dreams are valid. “So, churros are Spanish, huh? Tell me more about Spain, I’m all into the idea of the siesta.”

 

“It’s hot and full of cute girls and beaches.” Izumi pulls out a small hunk of the dough, dumps it into a bowl, and shoves it over with a spoon. He’s not going to eat it like that, but Leo can. “And good food, but that’s obnoxious when I’m always on a diet.” 

 

He turns to start the oil up on the stove, and then starts piping out all of the churros. “You’d like it, siestas included. Mostly my parents are all about the food, though…my mom’s addicted to these things way more than you ever could be.” 

 

“Mm, the sweets are good,” Leo agrees. “They’d be better with cinnamon sugar, but Sena always remembers that part at the end. Would Ruka-tan like the beaches? We can take her there with our litter, and catch huge shrimp with the heads on.”

 

Izumi’s stomach rebelliously growls. “We’re not going to have a litter, that’s not a thing,” he firmly says, and gestures to the nearby bowl of cinnamon sugar. “You dip them afterwards, don’t make it sound like I’m doing it wrong, I’m not. Ruka-chan would like it, yeah, but boys would hit on her and you’d be stressed out. Maybe she shouldn’t go.” 

 

The oil pops behind him, and Izumi turns, dropping one of the churros in as a tester. It sizzles and fries, quickly turning a brilliant golden brown, and Izumi fishes it out shortly after. “Here,” he says, rolling the still-hot thing in cinnamon sugar and uncovering the second bowl on the counter that’s nothing but melted chocolate. “Be my taste tester. Then start talking.” 

 

Leo takes a huge bite, then urgently sucks in air as the hot dough tries to burn his mouth. He chokes it down manfully, swallowing, then flashing a thumbs-up with a big grin. “Suuuuuper tasty, Chef Sena! Wahaha, I wanna eat your cooking every day!”

 

“Uh huh. You get nothing else until you talk.” 

 

Leo pouts, letting his head flop down to the table. “So mean, Sena! I’m so hungry, they’re so tasty, don’t make me talk about dumb stuff, just give me churros like a good wife…”

 

Izumi’s lips purse, and he turns away, taking his neatly-piped tray of dough over to the oil to start frying up the first batch. “Good wives make you face issues you don’t want to deal with. Talk or you get none of these.” 

 

“This is dumb. Sena’s mean, how about we talk about Rittsu’s weird crush on his brother? That’s not normal, right? I mean, you wouldn’t know, because you’re an only child, but that’s definitely—“

 

“Is it about me?” Izumi abruptly snaps, turning around to glower at Leo directly. It’s not a card he ever wantsto pull, but knowing it works to more or less force Leo into talking is…helpful. “If I did something wrong and it’s bothering you, just tell me.” 

 

“Eh?” Leo blinks, startled and taken aback. Izumi isn’t allowed to be upset because of him. If he’s that much of a useless king, he should just die already. He licks his lips, eyes darting around nervously. “No. It’s me. It’s—uwaaah, Sena, guys in my family don’t talk about this kinda stuff, it’s really bad for me—like people asking about the marks on your legs, I don’t wanna talk about it.” It’s a nasty, low trick, but it’s the only thing he can think of that Izumi would avoid talking about to the extent that Leo feels right now.

 

Izumi’s mouth opens and shuts, and he turns back around, his jaw tense and lips pressed tightly together. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, long enough for him to hear the dull pounding of his pulse in his ears over the quiet popping of oil, and he scoops out the finished churros silently before turning off the stove. 

 

“…Don’t fucking do that.” Izumi’s voice shakes at the edges. The plate hits the counter maybe too-loudly. “If you wanted to know, I’d tell you. That’s the difference. Because it’s you. So don’t fucking use that against me. If you don’t want to tell me, just say you don’t want to, period, and I’ll drop it, but don’t fuck with me.” 

 

Leo’s stomach sinks. Bile rises in his throat. His head pounds. Reality wavers. That scares him most of all, the temptation to dive back there to escape this. If he tries, he can smell the crushed conifers and driven snow even over the cinnamon sugar, and what would happen if he just let go—

 

“I think I’m going insane,” he whispers, staring down at his plate. “I—ah, that was wrong, I was wrong, I’m awful, I’m sorry, I’m—I’m really scared, Sena. I think…I think my mind isn’t right. And it’s getting worse.”

 

“Just come here.”

 

Izumi grabs him by the wrist, hauling Leo out of his chair and against him, crushing him tightly to his chest. “We’re both fucking insane,” he whispers. “If you’re scared, I’m here. I…I don’t know what I can do, but I already dream about your stupid hair and archery and—and everything else all the time, so I might as well try if I’m gonna be a lunatic about it.” 

 

Leo clings to that offered warmth, not even knowing how much he needs it, grabbing at everything Izumi lets him have, letting out a low, shuddering sob against his chest. “It’s…getting so much worse,” he chokes out, feeling like no kind of great king now, just a scared teenage boy clinging to his best friend in a spotless kitchen. “And it’s—I don’t even know who, who I am sometimes, and you’re always there, and this isn’t just past lives or some shit, it’s us, and maybe I just want you so bad that I’ve invented another universe but I don’t think that’s it—“

 

“Wait—wait, slow down, Ou-sama, shhh.” Izumi hesitates, then drags Leo back into the living room, right back to the couch and down with him as he sags down into it. “Back up a little, I’m only so good at reading minds,” he mutters, trying to come off as teasing even when he’s starting to get a little…creeped out. Is this some dream sharing shit? That’s the kind of thing his mother watches on America television, not the kind of thing that actually happens. “Try again.” He drags the blanket off the back of the couch and firmly starts wrapping Leo in it. “I swear I won’t think you’re crazy.” 

 

Breathing—that’s important, that’s got to be helpful. Leo sucks in a few huge breaths, feeling some of the spots recede from his vision, at least for now. He curls up, hugging his legs to his chest, staring at a neutral spot on the wall. “It’s going to sound really stupid when I say it aloud,” he warns. “I’ve…tried writing it down, just to get it out. It sounds stupid but…I swear it feels like it’s destroying me.”

 

He drags his hands down his face. “I have these…visions. It used to be dreams, but they’ve been coming in the daytime when I’m awake, too, ever since we got crushed by Tenshouin. It feels like…I don’t know. Flashbacks. But of a life I haven’t lived. With you.”

 

Yeah. Definitely creeped out now. Izumi leans back, pulling his legs up onto the couch. “Okay.” Mine are just dreams. It’s probably not the same, we’re probably just too into this fucking roleplay. “Anything specific? Geez, if this is some past life shit, I hope I was still hot…” 

 

“You looked the same.” Leo feels his eyes start to water, and he rubs at them, looking away. “You were my Knight. I was your King. But it…it all went wrong, I only see bits and pieces but I always see you dying.” His mouth is dry and his eyes are wet, how backwards. “There was magic, in the world, and I thought, what if this is a spell? What if that’s the real me, the real us, and when we were dying we sent ourselves here to live out a false life in that second that flashes before our eyes before death? I’m—I can’t think about anything else except when I’m writing music. Sometimes I can talk over it but not always, I just—I remember you on your horse, so fucking vividly, you smelled like pine trees and snow and wine, it was dappled gray and had a weak left front hoof, why would I dream that?”

 

That’s too specific, too weird. Izumi feels himself go pale as he slumps back a bit more, curling his hands against his thighs. The dreams about what a pain in the ass that was on rocky terrain, how a bad stumble from his horse would have ripped anyone else less capable out of the saddle, how cold it was with more snow than he’s ever been able to see once in Tokyo… 

 

The niggling sense of guilt, of never being good enough, of failing constantly, every bit of it making him wake up in cold, anxious sweats, trying to place why he feels so wrong and out of touch and _why couldn’t I fix it this time, either?_

 

_Fix what?!_ Izumi wants to scream, feeling that similar cold sweat drip down the back of his neck. He’s suddenly frustrated, itchy, and his nails curl into his own palms before he forces his hands open again, laying them flat against his thighs. “…This is fucking weird,” he finally settles upon, his own mouth dry. “I…did we watch the same movie or something? It’s—this is creepy.” 

 

Slowly, Leo raises his head, turning to look at Izumi for the first time since he’d started talking. The second he sees that shaken look on Izumi’s face, he knows.

 

It’s like staring into the eyes of That Knight, not his old friend.

 

Whatever this is, it’s not just in his head.

 

And for the life of him, Leo can’t decide if that’s good or terrifying.

 

“You’ve seen it, too,” he whispers. “Haven’t you, Sena? You’ve seen—how much of it? The forest, the snow? The siege? The…” The part where we were lovers? He flushes scarlet, looking back down at the blanket.

 

“A…a lot of stuff.” I sound like I’m fucking nuts. Izumi’s gaze flicks up to look at Leo briefly, sees how red he is, and his mouth twists wry. “Some more…detailed than others. I don’t…it’s just dreams, though. Nothing like your stuff in the daytime, except for little things that just…get me sometimes, you know? Like the way your hair moves or the way you look all dressed up like a king, I…” He shrugs helplessly, glancing down again. “This shit is why I stopped calling you by name. It…it felt weird, after I had a few dreams and…yeah.”

 

Leo swallows hard. “Holy shit. I didn’t know it was…god, this is even scarier, you know? What if I’m right, and this whole world really is just in my head—or yours—but if we figure it out, we’ll wake up and die?”

 

“Ou-sama.” Izumi reaches over, grabbing Leo’s face, and squishes it. “It’s not just in your head,” he firmly says. “We’re both here and real. Look, my mom watches a lot of TV about this kind of weird shit. Instead…ugh, I can’t believe I’m sounding this fucking fruity, but instead of being freaked out, maybe we should be happy that we were obviously connected in a past life.”

 

Obviously connected—that’s a phrase for it. Leo nods slowly, then leans forward into Izumi’s touch, eyes flickering closed. “I mean, reincarnation is fine, but I would have expected samurai, you know? Though I guess you don’t have to be Japanese to get reincarnated as Japanese, I just never thought about it. You…you really think it’s all right? That I’m not…going to disappear? That I’m not crazy?”

 

“You’d be a shitty samurai. A king is much more fitting.” Izumi sighs, shaking his head. “You’re not going anywhere and I know you’re not crazy. I mean, no more than usual,” he wryly adds, brushing Leo’s hair carefully out of his face. “Ou-sama, you’re just Ou-sama. Calm down already.” 

 

Leo grabs for Izumi’s hands, squeezing them tight. “What if it’s something else—what if it was real and this is our second chance or something?” he asks urgently. “What if we’re supposed to not make the mistakes that lead to our downfall? But I’ve got to remember then, right?”

 

“Ou-sama—“ It’s hard to tell Leo that’s not it when Izumi is pretty sure it’s something along those lines. It unsettles him, and his empty stomach flip-flops unhappily. “Don’t start assuming things out of nowhere. Just…we’ll deal with it. Like, I get it, it’s creepy and scary.” Except the part where we’ve definitely kissed, that could happen. At least he’s had a few normal wet dreams in the mix, damn it. 

 

Leo’s eyes dart around, trying to decide what to say, not letting go of Izumi’s hands. “There…there has to be a reason, right?” It sounds more like a plea than a demand, and he shifts forward, eyes wide, imploring. “There has to be some reason that I remember it, and you remember it, and no one else in the world remembers stuff like this, right?”

 

“Maybe no one else we know was there.” Izumi hesitates, chewing on his lip before he can stop himself. “I’ve…also had dreams about Yuu-kun, though. Nothing as detailed as what I’ve had about you, but I…I don’t know if maybe I just want him there so badly, or what. I just know he’s…there, somehow, and I fucked it all up with him as well.” He shrugs. “I know he doesn’t remember anything, though.” 

 

Leo grimaces. “I’ve seen him too,” he admits. “I just didn’t want to say anything because…well. I didn’t want to say anything about any of it, but especially about someone that makes Sena act like his worst self.”

 

“I’m not sure if I’m relieved that you’ve seen him there too or not,” Izumi admits in a rush, his grip on Leo’s hands tightening. “Ou-sama…Ou-sama, I’m pretty sure I fucked up before. Really badly. For you and him. I don’t want to keep remembering more of that.”

 

Their hands are so tight now that Leo hears creaking and popping, and he doesn’t know if it’s from Izumi, or from his own fingers, clutching and holding. “You’re not going to do it again,” he says firmly, because…

 

_That fey face streaked with tears, that proud man on his knees, that sensation of disappointment, helpless anger in his own chest— “How could you?” he demands, just barely keeping himself from screaming. “You know we’re all going to die now.”_

 

_“I know, Your Majesty. I just want to be the first.”_

 

Leo feels his hands go cold—or maybe Izumi’s are just hot—and bile rises in his throat again. “I’m not going to let it happen again.”

 

How can you be sure of that? Izumi wants to argue, anxiety that feels entirely insane, irrational making his hands shake. He doesn’t even know what he did, but it settles such dread in him that he has no choice but to nod, clinging to Leo’s hands. “Okay. Okay. I…I believe you.” 

 

This is too much, too weird, too creepy, and Izumi groans, releasing Leo’s hands to bury his face into his own as he flops backwards into the arm of the couch. “This is fucking nuts,” he whispers. “I didn’t sign up for this tonight, I just wanted to—“ _Kiss you, finally_. “…eat churros.” Better, nice save.

 

“That’s the beauty of serving your king,” Leo says wearily, slumping sideways against the back of the couch. “You get to expect the unexpected.”

 

He licks his lips, thinking, staring at Izumi. If Izumi really does have the same visions that he does… “Kinda crazy that we were lovers, huh?”

 

“I’m gonna go get those churros,” Izumi mumbles, leaping over the back of the couch and disappearing to the kitchen. 

 

‘Kinda crazy’ is different than ‘sounds about right, please and thank you.’ Izumi hands shake when he rolls the finished churros in cinnamon sugar and he cleans up the mess from his cooking. If Arashi could see him tripping over himself like this, he’d make him go to the damned doctor. The way he feels about Leo is a lot different than the way he feels about Arashi, though, or even Ritsu, or even Makoto, because it’s a lot easier to kiss someone when you aren’t 100% involved in just about every single part of their life. 

 

And past life, apparently.

 

Izumi sets down the tray of churros and chocolate sauce onto the coffee table, and grabs a pair of them before he sits down, shoving them into his mouth (and already regretting it). “Help me before I eat all of them.” 

 

Leo takes a churro and chomps on it slowly, not meeting Izumi’s eyes. _Shouldn’t have said anything, I’m an idiot for saying anything, he doesn’t want this crap interfering in his life—who would? Maybe he really doesn’t remember like I do, maybe he was just saying it to make me feel good, and now he’s freaked out. Great job, Leo!_

 

He dunks the end in the chocolate sauce, and isn’t careful when he jams it into his mouth, feeling the chocolate smear over his lips, following it with his tongue to lick it up. “Thanks,” he mumbles around the sweetness.

 

“So, like.” Izumi moodily grabs another churro. Time to just go for it and then break down crying later about it, I guess. “Does it bug you? I thought you were a carnivore.” 

 

“Eh? There’s usually meat in churros?”

 

“No, I mean—geez, follow along, Ou-sama. I mean I thought you only liked girls.” 

 

Oh. _Oh_.

 

“Ohhh,” Leo breathes aloud, licking chocolate off of his fingers. “Is Sena just being a tsundere? I thought you were avoiding it because you hated it.”

 

“Avoiding what?” Izumi grumbles, his cheeks flushing pink as he dunks his churro into the chocolate sauce, leaving it excessively covered before he shoves it into his mouth. “I’m not a tsundere, don’t call me that.” 

 

Leo grins, feeling a lot less like his heart is in his throat now, polishing off a few more churros before Izumi can get to them. “Why’d you think I’m girl-crazy? Have I dated a girl I forgot about? The only girl in my life is Ruka-tan.”

 

“I didn’t say you were girl-crazy, I just said…I dunno, you like girls. You comment on how cute they are sometimes. Kuma-kun does the same thing and he actively tries to look up skirts.” Izumi shrugs awkwardly, and grabs one last churro before shoving the remainder of the plate closer to Leo’s side of the couch. “So I thought you might be bothered by…those kinds of dreams.” 

 

Leo laughs, kicking up his feet as he leans back, letting cinnamon sugar spill onto the plate, carefully keeping it off the sofa cushions. “I’m a lot more scared of the ones where we’re dying than of the ones where we’re holding hands, Sena. We hold hands all the time anyway, wahaha!”

 

“Yeah, but that’s a lot different than—you know.” Izumi flops back with a huff. “Kissing. Having sex. A lot of sex, in a lot of places.” 

 

“Eh, you got all those, too?” Leo licks his fingers, and starts ticking off. “The woods, the grassy hill by the lake, the stables, ahh, my favorite was the throne room—“

 

“Don’t list all of them,” Izumi protests, aghast. “Don’t list it out so casually like that, at least. Ou-sama…” He trails off, embarrassed, and he grabs a pillow to hold it over his own face. “Just put me out of my misery.” 

 

Leo grabs the pillow, pulling it down gently, eyes suddenly intent. “I don’t have to bring it up again,” he offers. “I just, ah, it’s pretty crazy, right? Mm, they’re the most fun parts of the dreams for me, though.” 

 

Is that saying too much? It’s probably saying too much. Oh, well, he’s already told Izumi the way craziest stuff.

 

Izumi stares back up at Leo, flustered and at a loss—which is typically how Leo makes him feel, but this is so, so much more. “I…I mean,” he mumbles, slinking down into the couch. “It’s not like I’d hate it if you kissed me. I just…I thought…” 

 

“That I was a girl hunter,” Leo finishes for him, with a shrug. “Ahh, my parents would hate this, but I don’t really…mind. Boys or girls. Or I guess I should say, girls are totally cute, but dating anyone scares me, because wow, what if it ends in death again? See, now that you know how crazy I am, you get to discover how really crazy I am. Congrats!”

 

“…Ou-sama, it’s really not any different.” Izumi sighs, pulling the pillow back up over his face. “’s not crazy if we’re both in on it. Stop talking about me dying, that stresses me out, I’m the only one allowed to talk about it.” 

 

The corner of Leo’s mouth quirks. “All right. So…if we’re here to make it right…do you think we’re supposed to be together? Or are we supposed to resist? Hey, God? Aliens? Whoever did this? Are me and Sena supposed to—“

 

“Don’t shout it like that,” Izumi hisses, throwing his pillow off the couch. “Ou-sama, you’re making me really frustrated, I don’t care about God or aliens, just kiss me or don’t already!”

 

Leo opens his mouth mid-laugh, and freezes.

 

_Kiss me or don’t already._

 

Privately, deep down, Leo wants nothing more than to know the whole story—was this love their salvation, or their downfall? Was it something that kept them warm, or left them vulnerable? It’s probably not good, not safe, it’s wrong if they’re both boys—

 

_“Would you serve your king on your knees, my loyal vassal?” he teases, eyes dancing._

 

_A pale hand moves forward, brushing hair out of his eyes. Icy blue eyes are hot now, like geysers in the north, melting his resolve and his very bones. “Sick of me on my back already, your Majesty?”_

 

Leo moves without telling his body to, lurching forward and grabbing Izumi’s shirt, yanking him close, until their faces are a few centimeters apart. He hears his own breath, the impending beat of his own heart thudding against his ribcage, his eyes flicking down over Izumi’s lips, his crinkled little nose, his furrowed brow, his eyes that are so familiar it wrenches his heart.

 

And he’s never been able to not kiss that mouth.

 

Izumi is pretty sure he whimpers, which isn’t cool or very knightly of him, probably, but Leo’s mouth is soft and warm and everything he’s ever thought it would be (or remembered it being).

 

His hands move helplessly, grabbing Leo’s shirt, dragging him closer as his lips part and he breathes in Leo’s breath like it’s his own. 

 

_Snow everywhere, frozen heavily to tree branches, barely a curtain to shield them from any other prying eyes as he grabs the front of a heavy, fur-lined velvet cloak and drags his king close, every hot puff of air between them turned to pale, wispy clouds in the freezing air—_

 

“Ou-sama,” Izumi whispers, his breath hitching as he tilts his head forward to kiss him again. 

 

This doesn’t feel like kissing his friend, the one he’s known for years, his unit member. This feels like kissing

 

_him._

 

Tears spill out from Leo’s eyes, and he clings, sucking in a shaky breath through his nose, letting a nervous, urgent whine out of his lips, and he crawls forward, kneeling astride Izumi’s lap, clutching him close. 

 

Reality melds with the other, and for a moment it’s hard to tell whether he’s tasting cinnamon or _wine_ , especially because _he always used to chew those spiced roasted tree nuts, waving off the expense when they’d ride through coastal towns_ , and his fingers dig into Izumi’s shirt, _and after dark they’d ducked into an alley, flushed and drunk and laughing, teasing each other about barmaids and dancing girls_ , and he sucks and nibbles on Izumi’s lip, _until he’d protested, “She wasn’t even doing it right, it was more like—“_

 

And he’s so, _was so, so much more beautiful than she had ever—_

 

Izumi’s face is wet, and it has everything to do with Leo’s tears splashing onto his own face. That’s no good, even if they’re happy, pleased tears, and Izumi’s hands helplessly reach up to wrap up into his hair, pull him closer as he flops back against the arm of the couch, dragging Leo with him and keeping him close when he sucks on his tongue. 

 

Leo is a warm, slight weight against him, and it makes Izumi shiver. It feels too familiar, even if this has never happened before. He shouldn’t know what Leo looks like straddling his hips, shouldn’t find the noises he makes so familiar, but it haunts his dreams, makes him wake up sweaty and frustrated and wound-up to the point even a cold shower does little to help. 

 

There’s a name on Leo’s lips, he thinks, along with Izumi’s tongue. Their bodies are pressed so close, so needy, so ready, and he’s always liked it when Leo touched just here, palms sliding down his chest, and he opens his mouth, breathing—

 

He pulls back, shaken, blinking a few last tears out of his eyes, feeling disoriented. “Sena,” he says firmly, hands fisting in Izumi’s shirt. “I—you know it’s you, right? Not just—not just because it’s us, but I—you’re Sena, I’ve always wanted…”

 

“Yeah. I know.” Izumi’s face is flushed, his voice a little hoarse, and he sinks his fingers back into Leo’s hair, dragging him back down to kiss him again. “Ou-sama is Ou-sama,” he breathes, his fingers sliding down to hook into Leo’s hairband, pulling it off and flicking it aside to better tangle his fingers up into the soft, fiery mess of it. “I wanted to kiss you before any of this. You just weren’t paying attention, dumbass.” 

 

“Being tsundere again, my loyal knight?” Leo teases, lowering his head, giving Izumi his mouth over and over again, tension leaving his shoulders, something cold and hard in his belly finally starting to thaw. “I should make that illegal. I make the laws of the land, you know…”

 

Words stick in his throat, and the noise that leaves instead is a flustered, strangled noise. “D…don’t say things like that,” Izumi mutters, shifting to try and move Leo off of his hips, at least a little. “I told you, I’m not…you’re just not fair.” 

 

Leo tries to balance, but Izumi’s shove sends him farther than anticipated, given his slight stature, and he flails his arms, slipping to the side before he rights himself. “Whoo, that’s a surprise. Don’t push me when we’re making out, that’s an order from your king!”

 

“Don’t sit in the wrong spot, then!” Izumi sounds a little too shrill, he knows, but that’s probably because Leo saying shit like that so casually just makes him harder. He huffs, grabbing Leo by the hips to pull him forward, no matter how his cheeks are permanently flushed now. “Have mercy, Ou-sama.” 

 

That should probably make Leo stop, but if anything, he pushes farther, tangling his hands in Izumi’s hair. He feels reckless now, and he’s already done the hardest thing, so he shifts forward, just a couple centimeters different from where he’d been before. Mischief seizes him, and he asks, eyes alight, “Do you want mercy, my Knight? Or do you want to see if I still remember how to make you come undone with just a touch?” For a moment, the words don’t sound like his own, but they taste beautiful on his tongue.

 

Izumi’s mouth goes dry. His fingers tighten against Leo’s hips, probably until the point of bruising. 

  
“Do you want mercy, my Knight?” or perhaps, the one from his most recent memory—“ _Mercy, my love, really?_ ”—isn’t something that can sound anything but lewd to Izumi’s ears now. His heart thuds in his chest, and he swallows hard, trying not to squirm when he can remember looking up into those brilliant, cat-green eyes and hearing those words as if it were scarcely a night ago. It was, if he’s counting his dreams. “I…” 

  
The tell-tale sound of the front door unlocking cuts through the haze of his mind, and Izumi hastens to shift, dumping Leo onto the other side of the couch again. “Welcome home,” he calls shakily. 

  
“Ahh, you’re here! You wouldn’t believe the traffic on the runway, we were eleventh in line from Kansai—never let me fly those tiny airlines again, they have no inkling of customer service, I’d rather drive from—oh!” 

  
Sena Maya blinks, taking in the sight of Izumi and Leo, both flushed, both with hearts pounding. She cocks her head to the side, then sighs, looking at the remote on the table in front of them. “If you’re going to watch dirty movies while we’re gone, at least do it in your room, sweetheart.”

  
Leo blinks, looking to Izumi, unsure what the English words mean, hoping they haven’t been called out.

  
“Mama, gross. We weren’t watching anything!” Izumi huffily insists in English, gesturing broadly to the plate of churros, more or less empty by now. “I cooked and we were just hanging out!” 

  
“Oh, it’s Leo-kun,” Sena Takuya greets in Japanese as he follows behind his wife, pointedly leaving their little rolling suitcases at the door instead of letting them anywhere near his floors. “Mama, don’t tease them.”

  
“There’s nothing to tease us about,” Izumi insists again. Fortunately, irritation and interruptions has calmed his body down enough to make moving far more possible, and he crossly glances back to Leo. “Wanna go back to—sorry, Japanese. Wanna go up to my room?” 

  
Leo nods, shifts slightly to check, and nods again, more firmly. “Ah, thank you for your hospitality, Sena Papa and Sena Mama! We’ll just get out of your hair, thank you!”

 

“You’re a good boy. Make Izumi help you with your homework,” Maya suggests cheerfully in Japanese before switching back to English. “I’m making chicken lettuce wraps for dinner, Thailand was wild and I’ve got to show you some of the stuff I learned. You’ll eat lettuce wraps, right? It’s lettuce.”

 

“Mama, I already ate.” Izumi climbs to his feet, pulling the blanket up after a last, confirming glance with Leo to neatly fold it. “Tell them, Ou-sama. Oyakodon and churros.” 

  
Leo nearly spills the beans about Izumi not eating more than a bite of oyakodon, but the idea of being alone with Izumi instead of having their time interrupted to eat something (he assumes this is about food) doesn’t sound good. “He did, I fed him myself,” he confirms, putting on his Smile, Parents Edition. 

 

“Oh, good! Did you write it down in your food journal? Ah, I’m backing off,” she says hurriedly, putting up her gloved hands as she strips off the rest of her accessories. “Go on, have a good time—oh, do you want me to bring up a VHS of one of your old dance recitals? I’m sure Leo-kun would love to see that!”

  
“Good night, Mama, Papa,” Izumi deadpans, grabbing Leo by the hand to pull him up the stairs, but not before grabbing up both of their bags. He can at least put on a show of doing homework, obviously.

 

“Good night, Izumi—ah, look, Mama, they left some churros.”

 

Izumi gratefully shuts the door on that, heaving a long sigh as he turns the lock. “Sorry,” he mutters, his head knocking back against the door. “They’re so nosy sometimes.” 

 

“It’s all right. It’s good that they care about you.” Leo rubs at his arms, feeling a bit awkward now, not sure how to go back up to that exciting level, that fever pitch that had felt like it was rippling through his body. “Ah…I really do have homework,” he admits, looking down at his bags. “At some point. I’m not saying that we have to right now…that was…really good.”

 

“I’ll do it for you.” Normally, Izumi would never agree to that. Help, sure, basically prod every single answer out of someone, definitely, but do it for someone, nope. If it means he gets a chance to kiss Leo again, though… “Everything in 3-B is easier, it won’t take a lot of time.” He hesitates, then reaches out a hand, making a grabbing motion towards Leo. “Come here.” 

  
Izumi is good.

 

Leo moves forward gratefully, slinging his arms around Izumi’s waist, nestling up close, feeling their breaths mingle between them in a way that feels so achingly familiar. “The night is young,” he says with someone else’s words, that still feel right. “And you’ve always been mine.”


End file.
